


Take Me Down

by illyriantremors



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, NSFW, Oral, Porn Without Plot, Sin Wagon, Smut, Threesome, also Cassian's a filthy finger tease, shadowsin, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriantremors/pseuds/illyriantremors
Summary: Mor’s in the middle of dinner when a questionable breeze hits her legs in an all too familiar pattern. When she realizes both her lovers are messing with her, Mor decides to take things to the bedroom for a little revenge that quickly gets carried away from her. NSFW





	Take Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure sin and nothing more. And as with the last time I did Cazigan smut, I have no clue if it works and am super nervous about it, but well, here we are. I tried and I’m just honestly happy at this point that I wrote something new that was fun to write and managed to squeeze another Cazigan fic in before ACOWAR. Whether it works or not, I enjoy writing them and plan to do more in the future. So forgive me if this isn't the greatest!

The House of Wind is chilly, Mor thinks, about two-thirds of the way through dinner with her friends.

She supposes it’s only natural. The dining room opens onto a spacious balcony high in the sky where the winds are free to come and go as they please through the large floor to ceiling threshold, constructed thus so that one might fly right in. One with Illyrian wings, that is.

Listening to Rhys fill them in on his latest diplomatic visit to the Day Court, Mor feels that breeze hitting her ankles, and crosses them with a brief brush of her heels to help shake the chill. She takes a sip of wine and leans forward on the palm of her hand, trying not to blink at how dull the trip sounds. Only Amren sitting across from Rhys looks truly interested.

On Mor’s left, Cassian has a clean plate in front of him, the second to finish up after Mor. Azriel is still politely finishing his salad across from the pair of them. Both of the Illyrian men still have their flying leathers on. They’d been gone all day and left Mor hopelessly bored and all alone to idly dream the time away.

She’d spent most of it reading. But what she’d really wanted to do concerned feather light kisses along her calves and cool, teasing licks up her thighs that invoked - invoked a feeling not unlike what the wind is doing at her ankles.

Mor shifts again, scoffing at the ridiculousness of herself and reversing the cross of her feet, but the breeze dances right around them. Her wine glass is halfway to her lips again when she catches the view of the balcony doors and realizes -

They’re shut. Firmly.

The wine glass only just makes it to her mouth when she feels the air below, suddenly richly warm and thick, slow its pace and creep a few inches above her ankles. It hovers mid-calf and distinctly _licks_.

Every muscle in Mor’s body goes deathly still honing in on the sensation of the wind - no, air? - gliding back and forth, back and forth across her skin. It feels luxurious and intimate, and full of magic. That much, she’s certain. And there’s only one source she can think of for that _particular_ brand of magic.

The warm current continues licking, almost daring Mor to look. Carefully, she takes another sip of wine just to still her breath and flits her gaze over the rim of her glass.

Azriel is all too concerned with Rhys, the dutiful spymaster as always taking notes and prepping for the day he’ll need to remember why the High Lord of the Day likes his tea with milk, no sugar, for the Mother only knows what reason. He averts his attention from Rhys only to take careful stabs of his next bite of salad.

Mor grips the stem of her glass a little too firmly as she sets it down, causing Az’s eyes to briefly meet her own at the dull sound. He gives her a blank face for two seconds before reaching toward his own glass. All she sees before he takes a sip is a subtle, almost nonexistent, twitch of his brow and the corners of his lips tugging to one side before the glass has his dirty little mouth covered.

That’s when the air - no, she realizes finally. That’s when _Azriel’s shadow_ dares to climb a little higher on her leg. It reaches her knee, swirls around in a loop, and presses lazy kisses behind the crook of her leg. And suddenly, Mor’s blood begins to race.

She can’t tell if she’s more infuriated with the fact that Azriel is being so wicked at dinner, _with their family present_. Or if she desperately wants to yank him by his leathers across the table and tell him to send his shadows higher, place them _exactly_ where she wants them. As a second shadow mirrors the first on her opposite leg, Mor is rather inclined to think it’s the latter.

Thank goodness she’d worn the silk dress tonight. It’s light and short and keeping her cool in a body that’s rapidly feeling more and more heat as the twin shadows take up a steady rhythm of teasing strokes just inside her thighs. A little pulse of heat runs up from that touch in her skin meeting her core, asking Az for _more_ , and damn, if it doesn’t make her nervous as hell.

Cauldron help her, they haven’t hit dessert yet, Rhys is still talking, and her wine is almost out. But those shadows keep licking - and rising. He doesn’t actually intend to keep her here like this for another... twenty minutes? An hour? Rhys and Amren can talk for millennia if left to their own devices, but as the shadows run along the smooth lace lining of her panties asking permission, Mor decides she needs release _now_.

So too, does Cassian, apparently. Right when Azriel sends one shadow in a quick lick against her clit over the thin fabric of her panties, the other shadow holding her left thigh down firmly on the seat, Mor feels a pair of calloused fingertips dancing on her neck, and has to refrain from jumping out of her seat at the sudden weight of Cassian’s arm draped right behind her on the chair.

Lips tight, eyes wide, Mor feels those fingers trace indulgent circles over her skin, just like the shadows, and move ever nearer to her ear. And Cauldron damn her, she wore her hair to one side tonight in a long cascade of waves that perfectly hides her boyfriend’s fingers as they lightly caress her earlobe and then pull away.

Gripping her chair for balance, Mor slowly, _slowly_ , moves her head to the left, praying to the Mother Rhys and Amren aren’t seeing this, and looks at Cassian. His face is just as smooth as Azriel’s, but when he catches Mor looking, there’s a shit-eating look in his eyes that twinkles. He gives her a hasty wink - the kind only Cassian can get away with.

 _The pricks are tag-teaming me_ , she realizes, not entirely sure how she feels about this except to know that she could love and kill them both for it.

And then she silently curses herself because Cassian has finally pressed behind her ear and the most glorious sensation is radiating out from that point matching the heat that’s become a fire in her crotch. She can’t help her lips parting or the fact that her head has tipped to the left stretching out all that smooth skin of hers for Cassian to better ruin with his hands.

When the smug little shadow dancer at her crotch darts through the fabric and presses _directly_ over her clit, Morrigan is done.

How do these males do this to her every single time? How do they always find new ways to tease her, bring her gasping before them? Was this what they’d been out all day doing - planning this?

Mor jumps up in one forward movement, unable to stomach the thought that she can be this turned on and seated _this close to her damned cousin_ , all while her lovers are smirking like thieves next to and across from her.

She’ll simply step out to the toilets for a few minutes. Yes, that’s it. Mor knows her body well. She won’t need long to relieve the unbearable ache she now carries. Azriel and Cassian can go to bed on their own tonight and take it out on each other for all she cares, see how they like it.

Only... Mor can’t get up. Just when she presses up, she jerks violently back, not expecting her feet to remain rooted faithfully to the spot in the five inch white stilettos she chose. It’s a jolting enough movement that it jars the table, and Cassian’s water glass spills off to one side. But all Mor sees is Azriel trying desperately to hide his snort as Rhys and Amren look directly at Mor, and then the spilled water.

_He’s tied my legs to the chair with his damn shadows. Filthy scheming -_

“Are you alright?” Rhys asks.

Mor blinks at him, swallowing tightly. “Wha - fine,” Mor says, pleased her voice comes out as evenly as it does. Probably only because she’s so astounded that it’s enough to mask the heat dragging her through the mud. “I only wanted the wine bottle.”

“Aww, Mor,” Cassian says, wiping up the mess of water that _almost_ made it to his lap. Mor wishes it had. “If you’d wanted a reprieve,” and he tops up her glass, “all you needed to do was _ask_.”

Mor’s blood roars in her ears at that because Cassian damn well knows she can’t ask him and Azriel to fuck her outright in front of Rhys and Amren, and she can’t very well go to the bathroom with her legs tied to the blasted chair either. She’s just... stuck. Utterly, utterly stuck as these two men, she reminds herself she loves _very much_ , play games with her while Rhys shrugs and continues his latest.

And the brief distraction of fallen stemware seems to fall short of getting her mind off of the heat crawling all over her body now because during the entire affair, Azriel kept that shadow on her clit, running smooth circles around the nerves with increasing pressure.

But it’s Cassian, who’s hands didn’t actually bother to clean up much of the mess, that are back at her neck and ear dripping wet from the coolness of the water that sends shivers all up and down Mor’s spine. A beadlet escapes and rolls down her open back, disappearing below the fabric of her dress at her waist. Mor’s not sure where the trails stops being water from Cassian’s calloused fingers - fingers she badly wants teasing her nipples instead - and becomes the layer of sweat coating her skin.

Her back arches off the the chair, her shoulders shaking somewhat to try and keep the motion from being too obvious. And even though Rhys is still talking, Amren has started occasionally glancing over at Mor who gives a shakey smile and just sips more and more wine. Cassian’s smirk watching her take each sip seems to say _greedy, greedy, greedy_.

Mor thinks it’s really her hips that are greedy. Her hips that are now leaning and digging into Azriel. He’s only got one beat on her crotch, but that’s all he needs. That shadow can stretch and fill and thicken while still holding her at the apex of her thighs - and Cauldron, does it ever.

It’s all Mor can do to hide the bite of her lip and the flush of her cheeks beneath her hair, jerking her head to one side as Azriel sends the length of that shadow between her folds to fill her. The most divine pleasure, unlike anything he’s ever made her feel in bed - it’s so different and new to all the games the three of them play - washes over her. Face somewhat hidden, Mor releases the bite on her lips so they can part, a blissful smile appearing at each thrust Azriel gives her. Under the table, Mor digs a hand into her dress fisting the fabric to keep her from giving too much away.

And she embarrassed. So ridiculously embarrassed. Public displays of affection are not a problem for her, not that she engages in them all too much, but this - this... exhibitionism is new, equal parts exciting and shocking and terrifying that she’ll be discovered.

And Cass’s hand only makes it worse, sliding between her back and the chair and - curse her, why did she wear an open-backed dress tonight?? His hand slides right in, two knuckles grazing the side of her breast teasing and it’s all _too much, too much, too much_. Azriel pushes into her hard and she gives a gasp.

Rhys jerks, nostrils flaring. “What is-”

“Dessert?” Cassian asks, cutting across Rhys. Mor could faint at the relief of having his hand immediately removed from her breast, Azriel’s pumping disappearing altogether from between her legs and over her ankles.

When Mor feels composed enough to handle herself, she turns back to her right and finds Rhys looking between the three of them very oddly.

 _He can smell it_ , Mor thinks, though she wills a smile. _The bastards did me in and he knows. He damned well knows._

“Dessert would be lovely,” Mor says, leaning heavily on the falsetto in her voice to create her usual chipperness. “Why don’t you and Amren go fetch it?”

“Fetch is for dogs,” Amren says. “I would think Cassian would be more suited to that particular task.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Amren,” and Rhys stands, “I think I could use a walk.”

“Lovely.” They pop off together in the direction of the kitchen and Mor prays they’ll be there a while because she’s pissed as hell now.

“Why the _fuck_ did you two start that?” Mor demands. “And why the fuck did you two _stop_?!” The words tumble out of her in a whispered hiss before becoming a quiet whine. “I was _this close to-”_

“Dessert?” Cassian offers. Mor glares at him. _  
_

Neither one of her lovers are sitting close to her now, but there’s still a fire in her core begging for relief.

Cassian bites out a laugh. “Don’t tell me you _actually_ wanted to come just then.” Mor turns crimson and it only makes Cassian laugh harder. “Shit, Mor,” he says, leaning forward so that their faces are inches apart. Azriel looks like he wants to devour both of them alive with the way he’s watching across the table. “I told you, all you had to do was ask-”

Mor pushes away from the table right as Cassian’s tongue reaches out and _licks_ at the corner of her chin where it meets her neck. “That’s it,” Mor says, and she slams her napkin down on the chair. “Bedroom - _now_.”

“What about dessert?” Cassian’s hands are splayed, mock affront.

Neither of the males have moved since Mor has stood. Now she towers over them at this position, enjoying the way they look up at her waiting for an answer. It’s time she holds all the cards and she knows from the look Rhys gave her right before they left that he and Amren are _not_ coming back to this table. Mother only knows what he suspects is going on between the three of them.

“Oh I’m getting dessert,” Mor says. Azriel’s eyes darken, pupils widening as she says it. The fire kindles all over again because she wants that look. Has wanted it and Cassian both for centuries and has found having them both night after night is somehow never enough.

“You are, are you?” Cassian says, his own lust-filled eyes devouring her in that dress he’d played with hungrily.

“Yes,” Mor says, stepping toward the hall that leads to the room they like to share most nights - _her_ room. “And you two boys are going to watch.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mor’s never heard feet move so fast as Cassian’s and Azriel’s do chasing after her down the hall. Once they’re inside her room, Cassian smacking the door closed with a little too much gusto, the quick movements cease. And Mor is enjoying the way these two males are staring hungrily after her as she backs away towards the lounge chair.

Cassian takes a brisk step toward her, but Mor holds out a hand to stop him and find the hard expanse of his chest, hidden beneath the leather. She wants to rip them right off, but she holds herself in check.

“I thought you wanted a tease,” Mor whispers close to his face. “Allow me the pleasure.” She licks along his chin towards his ear in precisely the same way he’d done at dinner and is rewarded with a deep groan rumbling out of his chin.

“Mor,” Cass says, daring another step, but she pushes that hand on his chest to separate them. The backs of her calves hit the lounge where she stops.

And promptly slips out of the little silk dress she’d been wearing. It falls in a puddle at her feet. Her panties quickly follow. She hadn’t even bothered with a bra.

Wicked delight flares across Mor’s senses watching the near-feral looks on her lovers’ faces as she reclines on the lounge, spreads her legs wide enough that they see everything, and reaches a hand down her stomach where it _just_ stops above the dark hairs resting at her crotch.

Cassian snarls, as if he can command that hand to go lower or change Mor’s mind and let him get to her first. A ghost of a shadow appears at her feet looking to restrain and Mor snaps her hand away from herself immediately, pointing at Azriel. “Don’t _even_ think about it,” she says and is pleased when Azriel not only backs off a step, the shadow disappearing, but fists his hands at his sides. “That’s better,” Mor croons, replacing her touch to its proper place where it can tease and play _if_ the boys behave for her.

 _“Morrigan,”_ Az bites out, and the way he grounds out her name has her blood instantly singing again. She merely scratches a lone finger through the hairs barely moving lower.

“You two are the ones who wanted to play games,” Mor says cooly, a cat’s smile teasing on her face. “So let’s play games.” She inclines her head toward the bed that directly faces her, making her intentions perfectly clear. “Go on. Give it your best shot. _Tease me_.”

The lovers look at each other, then to the bed, then finally to Mor. And she knows its killing them that her hand hasn’t gone any lower or that she hasn’t allowed them to come any closer. Mor wonders if they truly meant to get her off at that table with everyone watching.

It takes two heartbeats for Cassian and Azriel to move toward the bed - anything to get Mor’s hand working herself while they watch. And as soon as they do, Mor gasps a little at the sudden abrupt shove Azriel gives, sending Cassian back against the bed post. Fire licks up Mor’s core watching him strip Cass of his belt, his pants, until there’s only his underwear and a very sizeable bulge beneath left.

“Shit - _Az_ ,” Cass chokes out, not used to such demanding gestures from his boyfriend in bed as Az wastes zero time in freeing his cock. For a moment, Mor stares and stares at how hard and long it is, imagining how thick it would feel buried inside her - the way Azriel’s shadows had, but real and warm and _better_. If it weren’t for the fact that she wants these boys to start touching each other, she’d damn everything to shove Cass back on that bed and ride him hard until he came screaming her name.

But she resists instead, and watches as Azriel presses a hot kiss to Cassian’s mouth and helps him remove the top half of his leathers. Mor decides this was a very, very good decision indeed.

Az kisses a trail down Cass’s neck, his chest, and finally his stomach until he’s on his knees in front of him, only one option left. At his back, Cass’s wings give a twitch against the bed post.

Mor almost doesn’t realize Azriel has stopped kissing him until he clears his throat, drawing her attention. Az is staring hard - daring her. He curtly nods to that hand at her crotch that’s been waiting, command in those rich hazel eyes and Mor silently swears. A deal’s a deal.

So Mor dares that hand lower between her legs and finds her clit already throbbing for her. She begins to circle it slowly, never taking her eyes off Az. “Good, Morrigan,” he says, his voice all midnight velvet. “ _Good_.”

 _When did he gain the upper hand in this?!_ Mor thinks as her center starts to rock with the motion of her hand. But her boyfriend has, somehow, already overtaken her lead. It’s just a game now to see who lasts the longest.

Azriel turns back to face Cassian and slides his hand _up, up, up_ posessively until it’s gripping his chin and turning it gruffly toward Mor on the settee. Not that Cassian had stopped looking, Mor noticed. Now that she’s touching herself, Cassian can’t seem to tear his gaze away for one second. She likes that gaze on her. Like to watch him watch _her_ work herself.

“You don’t stop looking at her,” Azriel says. “Not for one second. You don’t take your eyes off her hand or her cunt until you’ve come in my mouth and she’s screaming for you on the lounge.” He doesn’t even ask if Cass understands, just puts his mouth to work.

Mor faintly hears Cassian swear, but is quickly distracted by the rough jerk Cass gives against the bed, his hands gripping what he can reach of the sheets just behind him as Azriel moves his tongue - his lips - over Cass’s head. Still dressed head-to-toe in his flying leathers, wings tucked in tight at his back, Azriel looks something like a demon from hell next to their naked selves, come to set them both on fire. And the way he’s sucking at Cassian, taking him in deep and running a hand over his ass - _by the Cauldron_ , what did she get herself into. She’s going to die and she knows it. She should have just taken them both on the bed and relieved herself, but too late now. The sight of her boys together is ruining her.

Her hand moves faster over her clit and already she can feel her pleasure swelling. Cassian is staring hard at her, a glazed look in his eyes as he pants stronger with each bob of Azriel’s head. So Mor rewards him moving her free hand up her chest to cup her breasts. She flicks a nipple, turning it bright red, and nearly loses rhythm on herself when Cass’s strikes the paneling of the bed frame with a hard _whack!_

_“Mor-”  
_

“Touch him,” she breathes. Cass almost loses the eye contact he’s been barred from quitting. “Touch him, Cassian. Grab him, just...” she shudders, unable to quite finish the words. She so close. Already _so, so close_ and she wants to come. Wants to come while her lovers fuck each other and she watches. Then she wants to do it all over again until all three of them are spent. “Just - just move him, Cass,” she manages to pant out and watches Cassian take a fistful of Azriel’s hair, guiding him along.

A stray shadow reappears, diving out of sight behind Cassian where Azriel’s fingers had been at his ass, forcing a moan out of both Cass and Mor. When Cass can’t take it any longer and his head falls back to hit the bed post, eyes fluttering shut, Mor breaks, her clit sending waves of climax out over every inch of her body relieving that magnificent ache. “C-Cass,” she moans, head thrown back, knees shaking.

But she never stops looking. Not once. They’d promised. And she feels almost ready enough to come again when Cass re-opens his eyes at the sound of his name falling off Mor’s tongue and comes into Azriel’s mouth from the sight of her high alone.

“Did you look at her?” Azriel asks, and suddenly both their attentions go down to the male on his knees. Cassian nods. “What did she look like?” His voice is thick, guttural, enough to make Mor bite her lip and Cassian balk. “What did she look like,” Az says again, standing and licking the remaining cum off his lips he hadn’t swallowed, “as she came for you, Cassian?”

Mor sees Cass’s eyes glaze again, finding her on the lounge. She bites her lip, pushes her fingers down into her folds - _shit, she’s wet_ \- and holds, a new promise. Cassian swallows. “Perfect. She looked _perfect_ ,” he says.

Azriel’s fingers trace over Cassian’s jaw. His shadows dance freely down Cassian’s body, teasing him as he had teased Mor at dinner. “Do you want her to do it again?”

“Yes,” Cassian says instantly. Mor grins and dips a finger inside herself, biting back a moan as she feels her body reset, ready for more. “But you’re gonna fuck me first,” Cassian says, grabbing Azriel’s shoulders and fighting for dominance amid what quickly becomes a clash of teeth and tongues on the bed.

Cauldron - these men are really going to kill her, Mor thinks, slipping a second finger inside herself, curling them at the tips as she pumps herself and wishes it were Cassian’s tongue instead. Or Azriel’s. She’s so hot at this point, she wants them both, sick of this chair and her own pitiful fingers when she longs to be filled with something _more_.

As if in reply, darkness wraps around Mor’s hand locking it in place and making her gasp. She looks up and finds Azriel directing Cassian to his back, legs spreading out around him. Az removes his leathers, exposing that beautifully tanned chest he’s spent centuries honing to perfection, the tattoos running over his pecs and shoulders. And his thighs - his thighs are powerful creations holding him up high over Cassian who Mor thinks is trying hard not to reach up and return Azriel’s earlier favor in earnest.

Az grabs a bottle from the night stand and positions himself between Cassian’s legs. He opens the bottle and starts to touch himself, prepping. “You be good, Morrigan,” he says, that name again sending chills all over her body. “Be good for me Mor, and I’ll be good for you. We both will.” He nods at her hand bound in shadow that can’t seem to move of its own free will anymore, but the moment Mor moves to look at herself, Az cuts her off. “Eyes up top, love. I want to see you come when I fuck you both.”

Mor whimpers, and then Azriel is fucking Cassian on the bed, eliciting sounds from Cassian she’s never heard from her boyfriend before in her life. And all the while, Azriel is watching her. And it makes her feel alive. It makes her feel special. Having the attention of both these men even while they touch each other - it makes her feel like a _queen_.

Mor knows Azriel senses the shift in her. _Good_ , he mouths silently to her from the bed, thrusting in on Cassian and gripping his waist. Cass is lost to the bed sheets. And suddenly, Mor feels her hand free from the wetness between her legs, replaced by that shadow that had entered her at dinner.

“Azriel - fuck, Azriel, _please_ ,” she says, not caring that she’s already begging. She just manages to keep her eyes on him, exactly what she knows he wants, and nearly cries out again as the shadow starts to pump in and out of her hard and fast. It’s not long before it’s matching the pace of Azriel’s hips on the bed.

And it feels like bliss. The way it was always meant to be - just the three of them and no body else in the entire world. Only them. Only this bedroom. Only their unified breaths and moanings ringing about the walls betraying how glorious they feel together.

By the time Mor’s fingers have found the nearest pillow to clutch as her body starts to shake, she’s close to losing it completely, but Azriel keeps his shadows back. Every time she gets _just_ close enough to going over, he pulls back on her, but fucks Cassian a little bit harder.

 _Tease, tease, tease_ , she groans silently.

 _Do it,_ she mouths. Az shakes his head. “Out loud, Morrigan, love. I want to _hear_ you say it.”

“Come,” she whines, her legs spread impossibly wide on the seat for that shadow to pump between. “Come, please, please, _I want to see you c-come_.”

Azriel snarls, lets his shadows loose until Mor’s head is bent so far back on the soft side rest of the lounge, she almost can’t see him anymore. But it’s Cassian who sits up, gripping Azriel’s waist, and drags his mouth and teeth over his neck - his shoulder. Az shivers, his back arching.

“His wings, his wings - Cauldron, his wings, Cass.”

 _Let’s see how you like it_ , she thinks.

The groan that comes out of Azriel when Cassian runs two thick, calloused fingers over the joint of his wing is enough to do it. Az comes hard, incoherent sounds tumbling off his lips, as Cassian holds him, rocks him through it.

They’re both panting hard by the time Azriel removes himself from Cassian’s chiseled frame. And his eyes sharpen on Mor.

As one, they finish her. Azriel’s hand on her clit as he swipes his tongue into her mouth and Mor finds she can still taste Cassian on his lips. And Cassian, two fingers buried deep inside Mor to replace those shadows and make her scream his name one more time. It feels like paradise.

Chests heaving, skin slick with sweat, Cass and Az stoop beside the lounge, their wings stretched out around them. Mor reaches down and runs her fingers through the hairs of one of their heads, she isn’t sure which. Her eyes have fallen shut.

“That feels... nice,” Cassian says, his voice deep and sleepy. It must be him she’s touching. And she quite agrees with the timbre of his voice and the suggestion of retreating to the bed that it holds.

“You know what else would feel nice,” Az says. “If we carried this one room over.”

Magic at work, Mor can already hear the deep pool of their bathing room running and imagines what that delicious steam would feel like over her skin with these two males on either side of her. Suddenly, she’s wide awake again. Perhaps a bath before bed is just what they need.

She pops up and grabs a handful of Az’s hair, pulling him to her lips and kissing him deeply. “Let’s go get cleaned up, hmm?” she teases when they pull apart.

Cassian chuckles and offers Mor his hands. “Come on.” When she’s on her feet, Cassian immediately scoops her up into his arms and his skin against hers, naked and pressed closed, feels like the satisfaction she’d been craving all night since that very first tickle touched her ankle at dinner. Azriel stands behind her, chin resting on her head.

“My boys,” Mor hums. Azriel presses a kiss to her neck, softer this time. More personal. “What would I do without you two, eh?”

“Suffer infinitely,” Cassian says. Azriel snorts. He’s the first to make it to the bathroom. Cassian lingering behind a moment with Mor in his arms.

Slowly, Mor offers a smile, sweet and gentle and just for him. His head dips and Mor’s heart thumps wildly as his lips press against hers so tenderly, she remembers why she’d liked him so much that first week in the camps when they’d met. Remembers the Illyrian with kindness in his heart. They don’t say anything when they pull apart. They don’t have to. They simply smile warmly and join Az in the pool to wash up with fresh soaps and shampoos smelling of honey and pine.

The bed does not see the trio again for a good long while.

xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave feedback and/or find me on Tumblr in my trashcan. :)


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